


Good Cheer

by starbuckmeggie



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M, Family, Holidays, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbuckmeggie/pseuds/starbuckmeggie
Summary: Josh and Donna celebrate their first holiday season as the parents of two children; plus, Josh and Donna get to spend some quality time alone together.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	Good Cheer

To say that I’m exhausted would be an understatement. What I’m feeling goes so beyond that right now; I feel like I’ve reach another level of existence.

The only thing keeping me upright is my love for my two little girls and my desire that they get to experience the joy of Christmas.

Truthfully, I don’t think Hannah cares a lot right now. She’s only six weeks old. She cares about eating and having her diaper changed and napping but Christmas…not so much. Still, I don’t want her to miss out on something because I’m exhausted; that’s not fair to her. Not to mention Becca who, at almost two, is completely enamored with all the bright lights and colors everywhere. Her pupils dilated at the first sight of it all and I don’t think she’s blinked since.

Meanwhile, I think this morning was the first time I’d showered in days…probably closer to a week than I’d like to admit. Today also marks the first time I’ve really left our apartment in about a month and a half. Honestly, I’ve been okay with it. After Becca was born, I was convinced that I had to, I don’t know; prove that giving birth hadn’t changed me. I don’t think I realized what I was doing at the time, but I definitely had some preconceived notions about what I was supposed to be like as a new mother. I was back at work in two months, and even when I was still on leave, I took her out with me to the store in the middle of the day instead of just sending Josh on his way home, or even waiting until he got home so I could make a trip on my own. I very rarely asked for help, other than from Josh, who was usually on the ball with the whole parenting thing anyway.

This time, however, I could not care less. Having two small children is exhausting and I have rarely felt the need to wear anything other than my pajamas lately. I would think it’s post-partum depression, but my brain actually seems to feel happier that I’m not trying to push myself into behaving the way I think I’m supposed to behave and am instead just trying to roll with the punches. Josh doesn’t judge me. He was a little concerned at first, but he’s even said I seem much more relaxed this time around, at least in some regards.

Also, when my parents or my mother-in-law have offered to come spend some time with me and the kids on my leave, I’ve leapt at the chance. I was less into that the first time around, even though they all saw Becca plenty, again determined that I could do it. I didn’t need help. This time, with Hannah, I figured to hell with it. Let them come when they want to. I’ve only asked for at least a few hours heads up, and that’s mostly so I can try to make myself look like less of a swamp monster. Alice has already been here twice since the baby was born, even staying for a week and a half most recently for all of Chanukah. It was great. She wanted to spend as much time as possible with the kids, keeping Becca occupied when Hannah couldn’t be consoled, cuddling with the baby whenever possible so I could spend time with my oldest, and just taking care of them in general so I could get a few extra hours of sleep here and there. The worst part, really, was that we didn’t have much in the way of a bed for her. When Becca came along, we converted the spare room into her room, which meant that my old bed got donated. Our parents usually stay in a hotel so it hasn’t been that much of an issue, but we didn’t want the poor woman spending that long, and that kind of money, on a hotel so we made do. She wound up sleeping on a cot in Becca’s room, preferring that to the couch, and since Becca’s been pretty good about sleeping through the night, it all seemed to work out.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have been mad if she’d extended her stay through at least Christmas, but I know she had her own life to get back to. Her visit did help drive home the point that Josh and I need to start considering a bigger place, sooner rather than later. It’s a tight fit with four of us, and two of the four are very, very small. One thing at a time, though. I’d like to give my body a chance to recover a bit more before we take on another huge project.

I’d hoped my parents would be out here for the holiday—they’ve only seen the baby once since she was born and I’m pretty sure they’d been to visit Becca at least twice by this point—but my little brother started bitching about how his kids missed seeing their grandparents for Christmas. He lives on the other side of Madison and sees our parents at least once a week, but knowing Nick, he was just being an ass because he wasn’t getting all the attention. Being the baby of the family, he really doesn’t like when he’s not the focus of everyone’s unending adoration. Maybe that’s a little mean, and possibly a little untrue, but I allow myself to feel bitchy a lot more after I’ve given birth. He called me to apologize or explain, going on about how the kids wanted to spend Christmas with their grandparents, which may be true, saying something about me monopolizing the holidays, which I did think was unfair. I’m the only one who doesn’t live nearby, so holidays are usually my chance to see our parents. Granted, they tend fawn a bit over me when I visit, but I suspect it’s like that when any child isn’t nearby. At any rate, I didn’t let him ruffle my feathers, which felt like a major accomplishment, though I let him know in no uncertain terms that I thought he was being a douche bag about it. I mentioned how I hadn’t even been able to come in for our usual family Thanksgiving extravaganza because I’d given birth less than two weeks beforehand and wasn’t ready to fly, but if his middle-school aged children desperately needed to see our parents for Christmas, I wasn’t going to stop them. I didn’t mention it to my parents, either, because I didn’t want them to feel guilty or like they had to choose between us. They seemed to feel bad about it, but I reassured them it was fine and that the girls wouldn’t know, which is true. Becca’s almost two and is turning out to be _way_ too smart for her own good, but the concept of time isn’t something that she’s grasped yet. It won’t matter to her if she sees her grandparents at some point next month or even a few months from now. And Hannah, well, at six weeks old, not much of the outside world matters to her.

I feel Josh’s arm around my shoulders, leaning in to give my cheek a kiss. I turn and smile at him, unable to help the way my heart flutters at the sight of him. Other than the fact that my husband is utterly adorable and honestly one of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen, there’s the added bonus of seeing him push our oldest daughter in a stroller. Josh with kids is peak levels of sexy. It shouldn’t be true but there’s no doubt that it does all sorts of unwholesome things to my insides.

“You doin’ all right?” he asks softly, smiling at Hannah, nestled against my chest in her little carrier pouch.

“I’m wiped,” I answer.

He grimaces, nodding a little. “I’m sorry. We’ll be home soon.”

I just shake my head, jostling the baby a little, but she’s asleep for right now. I glance down at Becca; her eyes are still open, but just barely. She’s fighting sleep, desperate to see a few more lights before she’s down for the count. “It’s worth it.”

He grins at me, giving my shoulders another squeeze before he puts both hands back on the stroller.

We took the girls on a little tour of DC’s best decorated areas. We were mostly chauffeured around by our detail, which did a lot to keep Becca from getting cranky from walking too much, not to mention that a lot of these places are crazy crowded, even on Christmas Eve. As much power and authority that Josh has, even our little family didn’t warrant entire streets being shut down so we could wander in peace. It wasn’t until the last leg of this little journey that we got out of the car and started walking, just a few streets over from our apartment. Georgetown at Christmas is absolutely gorgeous and is absolutely worth it. It didn’t entirely thrill the detail, but we just flashed our incredibly adorable children at them and they caved. They did their usual fan out around us, one of the cars trailing nearby in case of an emergency or a temper tantrum, which they’ve come to acknowledge as emergencies, too.

Still, it’s the most physical activity I’ve had since giving birth and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m tired from it all. Of course, I’m tired from a lot of things right now, not to mention that I’ve had to go back to doing a good chunk of the childcare routine on my own—it’s amazing how quickly I got used to Alice being here and letting her do as much grandparenting as she wanted. It doesn’t help that the girls didn’t do a lot of sleeping today. Becca caught onto some part of us going on an excursion and got super excited and keyed up and was hard to maintain. I also discovered today, as a direct result, that she knows a lot more words than I ever realized _and_ is capable of putting a lot of them into mostly coherent sentences because she didn’t stop chatting all day. Josh thinks I’m making it up or am desperate for company because she doesn’t act that way around him, but he’s never given her much of an incentive to anything other than his little baby girl, and she still milks it for all it’s worth. She’s a little stinker, and is very diabolical. She’ll probably take over the world at some point. Hannah, for her part, seemed to get very fussy the more her sister talked, refusing to sleep more than a few minutes at a time. I’m hoping that at least they’ll sleep moderately soundly tonight.

It _is_ worth it, though. I want my kids to know the magic of the season. I want them to know magic. I know that a lot of Christmas is commercialized but I want them to be able to experience it anyway. I want them to always be able to look at strings of lights with wonder. I want them to know that feeling when the first snow is in the air. I want them to see people helping others and find the joy in it. I want them to know all of it. If a big guy in a red suit makes it magical for them, I want them to have it. If singing Christmas carols fills them with joy, I’ll gladly listen to them sing at the top of their lungs. If lighting the candles on the menorah each night as they recite the prayer gives them goosebumps, then I’m all for it. I don’t want people to jade them with this, and I want to make sure even the little things—especially the little things—hold special meaning for them.

I let out a loud, undignified yawn, trying my hardest to give Josh a look when his eyebrows shoot for the top of his forehead. “Straight to bed for everyone, I guess.”

I feel no small amount of relief as we reach our building. “They weren’t very cooperative today,” I answer, moving to the front of the stroller to help carry it up the stairs. Our detail tried to help us with this at first, often insisting it’d be easier and faster for them to do it for us. I’m sure that’s true, but we also won’t have these people with us forever, so we both try not to depend on them for too much, and we should certainly both be capable of getting our child’s stroller up and down stairs without their help. Unless it’s just me at home with them. They don’t like to see me struggle on my own, and even when it was just Becca, getting out of the building on my own was always a chore. When Josh and I are together, though, we’re usually able to get a stroller and a couple of kids upstairs with only minor bodily injury. I smile down at Becca as we go, not shocked to see that she’s now passed out, a thin line of drool running down her chin.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he answers, sounding sincere. “I wish I could have been here with you.”

“I don’t think your presence would have done anything to calm Becca—it probably would have been ten times worse. You know how she is with you.”

He just shrugs, but he can’t hide his grin from me. He loves that his daughter adores him, and it’s not as if the feeling isn’t mutual. I’d go as far to blame him for Becca’s ability to string together so many words as fast as she does. It’s not that I don’t talk to her, too, but she’s always been soothed by his voice and Josh has always been a talker. It’s a match made in heaven.

Before we can say another word, a neighbor’s door opens, putting the entire detail on alert for a split second before they assess the threat and find that our mom-aged neighbor is nothing to concern themselves with. They carry on with sweeping our apartment, leaving Josh and I mostly unprotected against a nosy old-ish woman. I don’t think they understand the true meaning of a threat.

I know we’re trapped for a few minutes, though, because she locks in on Hannah with laser-beam precision, her eyes lighting up as she all but reaches for my child. “Hi, Mrs. Gunderson,” I say, angling the baby away subtly.

“Well, hello!” she answers boisterously, making me glad that while my kids may not be the most consistent sleepers, at least they’re not light sleepers and probably won’t be disturbed by the volume of her voice. “I thought you’d finally had the other one! Is this it?”

I bite my lip so hard I almost draw blood. It takes everything in me not respond with something snarky. Does she think I exchanged my child for the one strapped to my chest? Or that we picked up another one along the way? That this baby leapt into my arms out in the street and followed us home? Oy. “Yes, it is,” is all I can finally say.

“I wanted to come by and offer my congratulations, but your bodyguards wouldn’t let me in,” she says, giving a pointed look at Gus at the door. He says nothing, doesn’t even make eye contact, but I want to kiss every single last one of them. I never gave it much thought, but they must have been running interference for us, making sure any well-wishers in the vicinity left messages but weren’t allowed to come in and give their germs and advice.

She keeps talking before I can say anything. “So, I never even heard. Did you have a boy or a girl?”

“Oh. A girl. Hannah.” I angle the baby’s face toward Mrs. Gunderson for the briefest of moments, not wanting to be entirely rude, but definitely not wanting to encourage her to start poking at my child.

“Well, she’s lovely. It’s so hard to tell when they’re this small, you know? Whether they’re a boy or a girl. It doesn’t look like you have her in pink, either.”

I grit my teeth, hoping it comes out as a smile. “No, not in pink today.”

“It makes it easier to tell, wouldn’t you say? Or those sweet little bows to put on their heads so everyone knows she’s a girl. I always put those on _my_ daughters when they were babies so I didn’t have to explain.”

“Hon,” Josh says suddenly, drawing my attention. He cocks his head toward our door, letting me know we have the all clear. “Sorry to cut this short, Mrs. G., but we’ve got a couple of sleepy babies that need to go to bed.”

“Oh!” she exclaims, looking surprised, seeming to have somehow missed the sleeping infant on my chest and the drooling toddler in her stroller. “Of course. I’m so sorry.”

“Happy holidays,” he says, giving our neighbor his best fake grin.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

His jaw twitches ever so slightly but he just nods, maneuvering Becca into the apartment.

“Have a good night,” I tell her, my voice overly saccharine. I follow Josh inside before she can respond, content to let our detail keep people at bay.

“Is my tolerance low, or was she being a real pill tonight?” he asks, his voice low just in case she’s lingering in the hallway.

“Oh, she definitely was,” I answer, shrugging out of my jacket and hanging it up. We don’t typically have any issues with our neighbors—most of them have lived here for years and are friendly enough but tend to mind their own business. The security detail ruffled a few feathers for a while, but no one’s complained about the added security they bring. The Gundersons are nice people, and she’s not the first person to give unsolicited advice on how either of my children should look.

Personally, I hate those big stupid bows people put on their babies heads, as if there’s some need to identify to the world at large if your child is a boy or a girl. They’re unnecessary. We received a lot of them when Becca was first born and found it more annoying that I was supposed to put on this sort of dog and pony show for strangers who wanted to know what was in my baby’s diaper. I put an end to it swiftly, happy to answer anyone that might ask, and not letting myself get too bothered by people calling Becca “he.” Babies all sort of look the same. I’ve found, however, that this isn’t a common belief. Josh and I have managed to make our way into a few parenting classes and groups over the last few years—mostly geared toward people in high-level government positions or people who need security—so we could have some degree of support, even if it was just to commiserate for a few minutes here and there, but also so our children could be around others their age. I’ve found a lot of mothers are absolutely obsessed with making sure complete strangers know if their child is a boy or a girl, even going as far as to put their daughters in fancy dresses when dropping them off at pre-school and daycare so that no one confuses them.

That feels like a lot more work than I have the energy for. My ultimate goal is to make sure my kids don’t die. Everything else is just icing on the cake.

“Was she making a dig at me for saying ‘happy holidays?’ She knows we celebrate Chanukah, too.”

I shrug as I yawn, starting to unstrap Hannah from her contraption. “Wouldn’t be surprised. Some people are so weird about that.”

He rolls his eyes, pulling Becca out of her stroller. Both of us chuckle a little as her little body droops over him like a limp noodle. “So, I guess we’ll take the Christmas pajama picture in the morning?”

I groan, shifting Hannah around from hand to hand as I peel her carrier off my body and hanging it up next to my jacket. “God, I’d forgotten about that.”

“But your parents never have,” he answers sarcastically. “Is it some kind of Midwestern thing? Is that what it is?”

“I’d like to say yes, but I think it’s swept the nation by this point. Yeah, let’s do it in the morning. I don’t want to wake either of them for something like that. They won’t know.”

He pauses for a few moments, kissing the top of Becca’s head with a look of such adoration it hurts my heart. “I’m going to change her diaper and put her down then. Want me to take care of Hannah, too?”

“I’m going to feed her first,” I answer, already settling myself on the couch as I pull open my shirt, the entire process old hat to me by this point. “You’re welcome to change her after, though.”

“Ah, the glamorous life of parenthood,” he answers, his nose wrinkling just a little. “I’ll be back soon then.”

I nod, already focused on getting Hannah to nurse. I don’t know why it’s so difficult to convince to convince her to eat half the time. Once she starts eating, she can pound it down like it’s her last meal. It takes a few tries but I finally get her to latch on, happy when her eyes never even flutter. I lean into the couch and relax, letting my eyes drift shut. Every time we do this, I’m so grateful that we managed to wean Becca before the baby was born. I don’t think I could handle two of them nursing at once. My poor nipples, however, hardly had a chance to recover before I had another one suckling away. My choice so I don’t want to complain. I also could opt to use formula or pump and use bottles exclusively, but I’d rather not. She became less picky over time, but Becca pretty much refused anything that wasn’t me for a few months. So far, Hannah seems to be following in her footsteps. Even when Josh gives her a bottle, she won’t really settle until she’s had it from the source. He hates it because he wants to be of more help, but I’ve told him many times that there are just some things they need me for, at least for now.

I feel Hannah moving in my arms and I reflexively tighten my grip on her, pulling her back to my chest. My eyes fly open to find Josh giving me a look. “Did you think she was falling?” I wrinkle my nose at him but don’t answer. “I think she’s done.”

I look down at the baby, surprised that she’s no longer attached. “Already?”

“Donna, it’s been half an hour.”

“No shit?” I ask, amazed. “Power nap.”

He just chuckles, taking the baby out of my arms. “I’ll get her settled.” He nods at my chest. “Put that thing away before I start getting ideas.” He winks at me playfully and moves down the hall, humming softly to Hannah. I stand and stretch, covering my breast a few moments later, mostly because the air feels exceptionally cold after being nestled against my warm baby.

Of course, I’m not opposed to Josh getting ideas. I’ve been feeling…antsy. Well, horny. That’s really the only way to put it. For the last week, my body has felt like it’s been humming with a low level of electricity. It’s very strange; not the part where I want my husband, but more that I feel like this already. After Becca was born, it took me a while. Part of it was because I didn’t feel sexy, and I was wildly aware of how different my body looked after giving birth, not that Josh seemed to mind the changes. Of course, it helped my self-confidence a lot when he constantly looked at me like he wanted to devour me. It was still more than two months after Becca was born before we attempted sex again.

This time, though, I don’t think I want to wait that long. The downside is that my OB/GYN has yet to give me a passing grade in that department. I saw her not too long ago and she said that everything was healing nicely, but that she thought I should give myself little while longer before attempting to mount my husband. I _know_ Josh is horny. He doesn’t say anything—he wouldn’t—but I know him. I know when he has urges. I’ve offered to take care of him in the interim, but he won’t have it. He doesn’t think it’s fair that I could get him off but he wouldn’t be able to return the favor. I love the man for it, but he’s got to be in some sort of pain right now. Other than how he wakes up every morning, it doesn’t seem to take more than a slight breeze before he’s covering his lap with a pillow.

He’s a good man, and I love him so much it makes me want to explode. He’s just too noble for his own good. I’ve told him that it makes me happy to make _him_ happy, but doesn’t seem to think a blowjob would be part of that equation, or at least not without reciprocating. I’ve also told him that’s ridiculous because he’s given me _many_ orgasms over the years without letting me reciprocate. Somehow, he doesn’t see it that way.

I shuffle down the hall, stopping for a moment to watch Josh change Hannah. He still looks peaceful and serene, as if there’s nowhere on earth he’d rather be. He never would have believed it, but Josh was made to be a dad. He’s so good at it. He absolutely dotes on our kids and it’s the most amazing thing to watch. I love the fact that he can strike fear in the hearts of so many then fall all over himself to make Becca smile or get Hannah to stop crying.

I carry on, making my way into the bathroom. I brush my teeth, proud of myself for not letting this part go by the wayside. I may not care a lot lately if I’m clean, but I’m doing my best to make sure my teeth don’t fall out.

“I put Hannah down in her crib,” I hear Josh say, his voice filtered through the bathroom door as he wanders about in our bedroom. “I figured we’d give it a shot.” She mostly sleeps in a little bassinet in our room, making it easier to grab her for her middle-of-the-night feedings, but I applaud him for giving it a try.

“Okay,” I answer, my voice muffled from the toothpaste.

“Are you…are you brushing your teeth? You know it’s, like, seven, don’t you? We still have time to be grownups for a little while. Plus, we have to put the presents under the tree still. And we haven’t done our Christmas Eve gift exchange yet.”

I actually hadn’t thought about any of that. The goal is usually to rest when the babies do. I just shrug and rinse my mouth out; it’s not as if brushing my teeth again is the worst thing in the world. “Both of them are asleep?” I ask, pushing my pants down my legs, my shirt following quickly after.

“For now,” he answers, sounding weary.

“Excellent.” I push open the bathroom door, feeling amused when Josh’s mouth drops open a little at the sight of me in my underwear. It’s not as if I’m wearing anything fancy—in fact, nursing bras are about as far from glamorous as one can get—but it all seems to do the trick for him. “We’re having sex,” I announce, peeling said bra off and dropping it to the floor.

Josh’s eyes grow wide, his mouth opening and closing a few times. I’m glad he’s already sitting on the edge of the bed because I think he would have fallen over otherwise. I waste no time in sitting on his lap, straddling him as I attack his mouth. He makes a noise but doesn’t protest. In fact, he grabs my hips and holds me close, his erection immediately making an appearance. I let out a sigh at the feel of it pressing against me, kissing my husband as if I haven’t touched him in a year.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says, coming up for air. “I thought you said the doctor hasn’t given you the green light yet. If this is because I’ve been making comments, you know I’m just teasing you, right? I’m not trying to pressure you.”

“You’re not pressuring me,” I answer, taking his earlobe between my teeth and biting down gently.

“But the doctor said…”

“True,” I say, pulling back so I can look him in the eye. “She said we probably shouldn’t have sex yet.”

“Then…” he says, his voice trailing off as his forehead crinkles.

“There’s more than one way to have sex, honey. We can have all kinds of fun without ever penetrating anything.” I push my hips down against him, both of us moaning at the sensation. “She said we _can_ do oral stuff without causing any damage, as long as I listen to my body. Right now, I’ve got to tell you, my body is begging for you.” I thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. He responds eagerly, his hands roaming up my back.

“Are you sure?” he manages to ask as I won’t stop kissing him.

“I’m positive.” I climb off him, pulling him to his feet. He starts yanking at the buttons on his shirt as I work on his belt buckle, getting his pants down his legs in record time. I drop down, helping him pulls the pants over his feet and I’m pleased to realize I’m eye level with his erection. I’m even more please to see he’s wearing boxer briefs, which only enhance his current situation. He was pretty adamant about not wearing anything other than regular boxers for a long time, though I did finally manage to convince him to give the boxer briefs a try. I like the way the look on him, hugging his cute ass and accentuating the muscles of his thighs, and he was loathe to admit that he finds them to be pretty comfortable. It makes me happy to see him making the compromise, going back and forth depending on what he grabs first. At moments like this, though, I’m _really_ glad he’s been willing to make the switch.

I rub him through his shorts, feeling a very primal wave wash over me. It turns me on in ways I can’t describe or control to know I can do this to him. He moans as I touch him, making my insides absolutely quiver. I yank his shorts down, taking care to not damage him in the process and take a deep breath as a wave of pure Josh hits me. Before he can say anything, I lean forward and wrap my lips around him, moaning in satisfaction at the way he feels. His fingers thread through my hair, clutching at me, taking care not force me down. He never has, but I know it’s something he worries about it. I let out a sigh and run my tongue over him, feeling the lines and ridges of him. This is one of my favorite parts.

We’ve been together for six years and he still doesn’t believe me about that. I don’t know why. He likes to go down on me. He does it as often as I let him, which is usually pretty often. He’s mentioned that it’s that whole submissive thing, and he doesn’t like seeing me that way, but I feel like this is anything but submissive. I have all the control when I do this. But more than that, I love giving him pleasure. I don’t usually get to finish him this way, mostly because he likes to be having more traditional sex when he orgasms and because he says he doesn’t recover fast enough to come twice in one night. That part isn’t true—it all just depends on the day.

At any rate, I like to do it and I’ll happily spend the rest of my life trying to prove it to him.

I start to move my head faster, gripping onto his ass to keep him in place. I can hear him breathing heavily, gasping when I run my tongue over the tip of his penis.

“Donna—baby, you’ve gotta stop.”

“Uh-uh,” I mumble, scooting forward to take him in further. He yelps, and I have a moment where I desperately hope he doesn’t wake the kids. If we have to stop I might combust.

“Donna, I’m gonna come,” he whispers, tightening his grip on my hair.

I pull back, releasing him from my mouth, though I use my hands to keep him going. “So what? That doesn’t matter tonight.”

He shakes his head and grabs my arms, tugging me to my feet. “Be that as it may, I don’t want it to end so quickly.”

I grab his cheeks and pull him to me, kissing him fiercely. He pushes insistently against my stomach, his erection twitching as if to remind me I’ve left him hanging. He turns me around and gives me a gentle push; I flop onto our bed, scooting back so that I can stretch out. Josh grabs my underwear and pulls them down my legs, tossing them over his shoulder. He looks positively predatory as he kneels between my legs, massaging my thighs. He licks his lips and leans forward, stopping when I put my hand against his forehead. He frowns in confusion. “Why not?”

“Not yet,” I whisper.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just not yet.” I grab his hips and pull him toward me until his pelvis is pressed against mine. I shudder at the contact. I reach in between us and grab his erection, running it over me a few times. He hisses and I pump him slowly, happy to find that I’m wet enough to lubricate him. I rub him against me a few more times for good measure then resituate him so his erection is lying on top of my pelvis. I start to tug at him again, biting my lip at the friction it creates against me. We haven’t had sex in a really long time. Not since a few weeks before Hannah was born. I couldn’t find a comfortable position when I was that far along. I’m sure he’s been handling his needs in the interim—I certainly wouldn’t expect him to go without just because I haven’t been physically ready for sex—but I haven’t had an orgasm in a _long_ time. My body is extraordinarily sensitive right now.

I look up at him, not surprised to find him watching me intently. I scoot a little closer to him so that our hips are almost fused together. I wrap both of my hands around him and start to work, pulling at him slowly but firmly. His skin is so soft and hot. My hips jerk against him, searching for more friction. I think I can actually feel tiny sparks coursing through my veins. He grabs onto my hips suddenly, tugging me faster against him. My toes curl. That’s the stuff.

He drops down suddenly, landing on his elbows, our bodies pressed together. He presses his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. “Is this okay?” he whispers, still pushing his hips against mine.

I nod, gasping as he rubs against a particularly sensitive spot. “Oh, yeah.”

“Is there anything I _shouldn’t_ do?” He grunts, his body tensing before I can answer him. He pauses for a few long moments, breathing deeply, and I realize just how close he is. He manages to regain his composure, his eyes fluttering open, his hips thrusting against me again. I move my hands against him faster, whimpering at the sensation of him rubbing against me.

“Boobs,” I finally answer, my back arching as he rubs against me again. “Probably don’t touch them.”

He nods, pressing his mouth to mine, kissing me hungrily. It’s a shame that breastfeeding has left them so sore because he really likes to play with my breasts during sex and, well, I actually like it a lot, too. It’s a nice extra bit of stimulation.

I moan into his mouth, my body tensing as he pushes against me faster. I keep my grip around his erection, but Josh is doing most of the work now. I honestly think doing it like this is a first for us…it’s kinda hot.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps suddenly. “Oh, _God_. Donna. _Donna!_ ” He rears up suddenly, sitting up on his haunches, and wraps his arms around my thighs. He pulls me against him roughly a few more times, his hips moving fast, his face contorting. “Gonna...gonna…” he gasps. I tighten my hands around him just a little and I watch as his first his face, then his neck, then the upper part of his chest turn red. He lets out a yell and explodes on my stomach, coming with a ferocity I don’t think I’ve seen in a while. He keeps thrusting against me, making my body jump as he hits all the right places. I pump my hands against him gently, trying to encourage him to keep coming, amazed that even though it’s slowing down, it doesn’t seem to want to stop. His hips jerk unevenly, releasing a little bit more against my skin before his entire body slumps. He breathes heavily, still holding tightly onto my thighs. His hips rub against mine, but very gently now. It feels nice, but not enough for an orgasm. I feel a wave of disappointment rush through me—I didn’t have an orgasm. I was pretty close, I think, but Josh was obviously further along than I was.

He finally lets go of me and slumps to the side, dropping onto his back beside me; I turn my head to look at him. His chest is still heaving, his skin is still flushed, and he’s all shiny with sweat. I feel a jolt course through me—he’s exceptionally hot during and right after sex. He wouldn’t want to hear that he glows, but he definitely does.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. He turns to face me, looking thunderstruck. I can’t help but chuckle a little at that. It’s nice to know I’ve still got it. “I came on your stomach. I don’t think I’ve ever come on your stomach.”

I shrug, trying not to think about it drying on my skin right now. “You’ve come on my tits before.”

“That’s sounds like such a porn thing to say,” he answers with a chuckle. “And that’s only because I know you’re not a fan of me coming in your mouth.”

I shrug again. “You thought it was hot.”

“No denying that.” He stretches his body for a few long moments; I can’t help but wonder if that means he’s about to fall asleep. Orgasms usually make him pretty tired. He can certainly bounce back if I talk to him enough, but with no distractions, he’s usually pretty quick to fall asleep. Before I can feel disappointed again, though, he’s on his side, propped up on his elbow, giving me a concerned look. “You didn’t come, did you?”

I almost lie to him—what we just did felt really amazing—but I’ve never lied about an orgasm before. I probably shouldn’t start now. I shake my head.

“Shit,” he growls. “You’re the one who’s crazy horny and you didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Josh, it’s okay—”

“Like hell.” He leans over and kisses me, leaving me breathless with the intensity of it. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, kissing me a few more times for good measure. He hops out of bed, his knees actually wobbling for a few moments as he disappears into the bathroom. I can hear the water running and I take a few moments to listen to the baby monitor, relieved that everything is still quiet. It’s anyone’s guess at how long it’ll last, but at least we have a few more minutes of peace.

He reappears suddenly, coming over and wiping my stomach off with a warm washcloth. He takes care to wipe me thoroughly, the most loving look in his eyes as he works. He leans down and kisses me again before going back to the bathroom. I can’t help but smile as he rinses out the washcloth—I don’t know that it’s something he would have done just a few years ago, and we probably would have had to toss it out once it dried out and become stiff and gross.

“All right. Your turn,” he says, reappearing once more. He kneels between my thighs again, running his hands over my hips and thighs and stomach, his touch driving me wild. I’m surprised and impressed to see that he’s still semi-erect, and I lick my lips. He might have another round in him. “You want to use one of the…” He nods toward the nightstand where a small collection of our toys live, the ones that we use most often.

I shake my head adamantly. “I think I have to build up to those again.”

“Are you sure? We could use one of the smaller ones, give you a little something extra.”

God, I love this man. His ego isn’t damaged in the slightest by the fact that I like to use vibrators from time to time. He’s actually kind of into it, enjoying watching me use them on myself, helping to use them on me, using things on himself to enhance our sex, even letting me use things on him, too. It’s not something I ever would have guessed before we got together—I figured Josh Lyman would be the sort to insist on doing it all on his own, his massive ego not being able to stand the fact that a piece of machinery was accomplishing something he couldn’t. Make no mistake—he’s really good at taking care of things on his own. What I found out, though, is he’s a very generous lover. His goal is pleasure for me. Yes, he likes to be able to take care of me on his own, but he feels no shame or embarrassment about using things to enhance the experience. I’ve always loved that our sex life is like this. Sure, it was a little strange bringing it up early on in our relationship, but he been enthusiastic about it since then, sometimes even surprising me with new devices for us to play with. _How_ he’s managed to acquire those, I’ll never know, but it just enhances our sex life, it makes it all better, and it keeps things from ever getting dull.

“I don’t think anything is charged right now,” I tell him. “Besides, I think extra vibrations would be too much.”

He nods, lying on top of me again. He keeps himself propped on his elbows, making sure to not put too much pressure on my breasts, and kisses me again, leisurely this time. Our tongues move against each other languorously as we explore each other. His hips push against me gently, making me forget entirely my disappointment from a few minutes ago. I should have known better. Josh isn’t one to leave me unsatisfied; he’s more likely to forget about his own release to make sure I have as many orgasms as I can handle. He’s a pretty incredible husband, honestly.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

“God, Josh, I love you, too.”

He presses his lips to my neck, working his way down my chest and my sternum. He takes care to avoid my breasts, and it disappoints me in a whole different way. I know it’ll balance out a little as Hannah gets older—at least until she starts teething—because Josh didn’t have to entirely avoid my boobs after I had Becca. I just really like what he does and it bums me out a little that it’s not an option right now.

I don’t get to focus on it for very long, though, because he continues to make his way down my body, his lips blazing a trail over my skin. My hips angle up toward him as he reaches my pelvis. Instead of going for it, though, he sits back. He puts his hands on my knees, pushing my legs open gently. He licks his lips again. I feel oddly turned on being on display for him like this, body open, not hiding anything. It really does help to have someone look at me the way Josh looks at me.

His hands slide down my legs to my inner thighs, massaging me slowly. “What should I avoid?” he asks softly.

“Stick to clitoral stimulation,” I answer, feeling myself throb in response. “Nothing inside yet.”

“I can do that.” His nostrils flare and his pupils dilate. “I can do that all night. _All night_.”

I feel my eyes grow wide. “Honey, I don’t think I can handle that yet. _Yet_. Let’s just sick with one for right now, all right?” I nod toward his burgeoning erection. “I can take care of that again, if you want.”

He looks down at himself, chuckling a little. “It’ll go away. Let’s just stick with one for now, all right?” I just roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Toss me a pillow.”

I lift an eyebrow but do as he asks, understanding dawning as he puts it under my hips. It does make the angle a little easier on my body. He settles down again on his stomach, angling his body perpendicular to mine. He smiles up at me devilishly from between my thighs, the sight of it making my hips thrust toward him. I reach down and run my fingers through is hair. “I love you,” I tell him again.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” he breathes just before his places his mouth on me. I hiss and jerk upwards, tugging at his hair. I tap at his forehead until he lets up. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, looking alarmed.

“No, I’m just sensitive. It feels good but it’s too much. Ease into that level of suction, okay?”

He chuckles and nods, going back to work. My eyes fall shut and I moan, my back arching as his tongue moves over me carefully. It’s really been too long. Too long for understandable reasons, but too long nonetheless.

“Good?” he mumbles, the vibrations of his voice making my eyes cross. I clutch his hair again, holding him in place.

“Mmmmm,” I answer, unable to form words at the moment. His arms slide under my thighs and wrap around me. He takes his time, keeping the pressure gentle until I start to thrust my hips faster against his face. He takes his cues from me, moving in quicker, firm strokes the more I push against him.

I reach up and grab onto the pillow beneath my head, digging my fingers into it. “So close,” I whisper, my body jerking a little.

“Come,” he answers, hardly coming up for air.

And just like that, I do. I fall apart, pressing against him frantically. I try not to hold him down and force him into place, but he doesn’t seem interested in leaving anyway. I see stars. I can’t breathe. I think the world starts to spin in the other direction. My legs shake violently as my heels thump against his back. I finally let out a breath, gasping for air as my body convulses.

He rides out the waves with me, keeping his mouth on me, his tongue trying to coax more from me. My body finally gives out and I collapse, pleasure still rocketing through my body.

“That was amazing,” I gasp, pushing my hand through my hair. I give his scalp a few scratches with the other hand, trying to let him know that he did good. He pulls back a little, the cool air of our room hitting my overheated flesh, making me tingle. Without placing his mouth on me, I watch as his tongue comes out, moving against me in a different direction. My eyes grow wide—I wouldn’t have expected it, but it’s insanely hot. My body’s already humming, and I’m surprised to find that I don’t feel like it’s too much. It helps that he’s still being pretty gentle with me.

I clutch his hair again, my arm shaking from the effort of not pressing him into me. “Oh, _shit!_ ” I exclaim, my body twisting to the side a little. My hips start rolling against him, eager for more of him. I let go of his hair and grab his hand splayed out across my stomach, clutching his fingers. My eyes actually roll back in my head. “Josh! _Josh!_ Oh, _fuck!_ ”

His tongue moves faster, making my toes curl. His hand clutches mine. I manage to open my eyes; I want to watch him. I’m not surprised to find him already watching me. I moan again, feeling my body tense, little shivers running through me. I’m pretty sure I’m going to come again…any moment now, really.

I see a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I look over and see Josh stroking himself. “Oh, God!” I exclaim. “Yes, yes, yes!” I almost never get to see Josh touch himself, and the fact that he’s doing it while going down on me triggers something in my brain. I feel myself cry out and bite my lip, trying to muffle myself. My legs shoot straight up in the air as I come again, and at some point later, I’ll probably laugh at my reaction. My hips thrust frantically, trying to get as close to Josh’s mouth and tongue as I can. I can hear him moan and I force one eye open, happy to see his hips thrusting, too.

A few long moments later, I collapse entirely, my body suddenly feeling boneless. I gasp heavily. I feel like crying. I feel him kiss my inner thigh, working his way quickly up my body until he’s pressed against me, our bodies flush. He kisses my neck, and I can feel his heart beating wildly. I drag his face to mine, kissing him deeply. “Thank you,” I mumble. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around me. “I should be thanking you. That was awesome.”

I laugh, too, loving the way his body feels against mine. “That was great.”

He pulls back a little, pushing my hair off my face. “Are you okay, though? I didn’t hurt you or push too much?”

“No, honey, it was great. I feel great. That was the best sex I’ve had in a long time.”

He looks affronted. “Jesus. I guess I haven’t been doing my job as your husband if that’s the best I’ve been able to do for you.”

“Josh...that’s not it at all. I was just so big for the last trimester, even for part of the second trimester, that I couldn’t enjoy it as much I wanted to. I promise you, you were still taking care of business in that department, this was just really intense.”

He looks a little skeptical, but I don’t have it in me to stroke his ego any more than I am right now. My entire body is still quivering.

I guess he lets it go because he presses another kiss to my lips. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he says, rubbing himself against me. “I made a…bit of a mess on the bedspread and we should probably toss it in the washing machine.”

I cringe and laugh. “Okay.” I give him another quick kiss and he rolls off of me, reaching for my hands. He pulls me to my feet and we wrap our arms around each other, holding on tightly. “Best Christmas present _ever_.”

He doesn’t say anything, just taking a deep breath as he buries his face in my neck. We stand like that for a while, basking in the quiet of the moment. Both of the girls are still asleep—a Christmas miracle for sure—and it’s still early enough that we can probably watch part of a movie on the couch before we pass out.

It’s a good life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Tried to follow my Christmas tradition of posting this at Christmas, but it turns out that I don’t usually post my little holiday stories on the 25th, just there abouts. So, tradition upheld. Not that it matters, but I’ve been trying to work on this for about two months. I created a title and not much else; the world has been nuts for me. I had to quarantine because a coworker of mine had a huge wedding and—shockingly—came down with COVID, which then put me and another coworker in jeopardy. Should have written then, but I was fairly stressed. Also, I’ve recently switched jobs because apparently I like to live on the edge during a pandemic. Anyway, this is what I managed to write. Less family friendly than my Christmas tales of the past, but it’s what came out. I do hope everyone is keeping well, that any of the holidays you celebrate in this general time frame went well, and that all of you decided to be rockstar human beings and not gather in any sort of group. Let’s try to bring down the number of deaths as we’re waiting to get vaccinated.
> 
> One other piece of housekeeping, and I know this will sound shitty (and it’s for sure a first-world problem), but please don’t leave reviews for my Friends stories on my West Wing stories. I promise that if you review a Friends fic, I’ll see it the same as I would with a WW fic. I love that some of you still love my Mondler stories, and I do hope to one day write some more of that fandom, but it’s not in the cards right now. Seriously, feedback is appreciated, but please put it in the appropriate place. Or create an account and message me so we can talk because I’m totally cool with that.
> 
> I know—I’m a total tool.


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